Harry paces back and forth down the hallway outside her room. There was something about their interaction by the phone. Something about her self-assurance. Her fearlessness. Characteristics that no one has ever described her as before. He was the first to see it.

He pounds his fist against the wall, frustrated. What is it about her? About her demeanour? Her soul?

"Hey, you! Lights out. Get back to your quarters, Harry. What are you doing?" A worker in the institution warns.

"Y'know. I'm just a crazy buffoon. Don't mind me." He gives a sarcastic salute and stalks back to his room. "See you soon, darling," he mumbles in the direction of her closed door.

"Used to be one of the wretched ones and I liked you for that. Used to be one of the wretched ones and I liked you for that. Used to be one of the wretched ones and I liked you for that." The maddening lyrics of Broken Social Scene loop in her head. Footsteps ring back and forth outside her door but she pays them no mind. She's just buying time. Waiting. Faking it until she makes it. Living for nothing but escape. The lyrics continue— "Park that car, drop that phone, sleep on the floor, dream about me..."

"FUCK!" She pushes the wool blanket off of her unshaven legs. Quiet rings outside her bedroom, save the steps of an unknown stranger down the cold corridor. This is her time to leave it all behind. Her opening to find admittance to a better world.

Gossiping orderlies stand oblivious at their stations, unaware of their escaping patient. The worker from earlier that interrupted Anna's game of chess is busy wooing a female employee. "I just really want to take you out. C'mon, Ashleigh. You know I'll treat you right." The Ashleigh he's speaking to rolls her eyes and continues doing whatever data entry her suitor interrupted in the first place. Anna takes this as her opportunity to scurry down the hallway as quickly as possible.

Lights are dim. Patients are tucked away in their respective rooms, tossing and turning from the exasperating white noise of ceiling fans and ticking light bulbs. She finds her way to the rooftop access door at the end of the dark hallway. How foolish it is to have a mental institution placed at the top of a building with easy access to a solution.

Crisp cold wind hits her chapped skin. Maybe she should have used the face mask her mom gave to her. Having only been in the institution for a week, she hasn't earned her outdoor privileges yet. This was the first time in what feels like years that fresh air has caressed her sunken-in cheekbones. The scent of Pine Sol is replaced by fresh rain on London pavement. What she would give to bottle this smell and relive it for eternity.

Specks of headlights litter the streets below. She leans over to observe the scenery, taking in a deep breath. This spot is high enough. It would happen on impact. Would she want to be facing up? Enjoy the ride, unaware of the hit? Or face down? Ready to face it.

"If you wanted to do it, you woulda done it already." The baritone of the voice startles Anna, her body jolting forward toward the brick edge. "Woah, woah, woah." He rushes behind her and pulls her upper body back and let's go.

"Thank you..." Anna tugs on her t-shirt and fidgets with the split ends of her blonde waves. "What... what're you doing here?"

The unfamiliar, yet familiar, face of the man standing in front of her makes her blood run hot. She remembers the back-and-forth in group. The exchange at the telephones. However, she's thankful he was here in her moment of second guessing. She shivers as her mind finally takes a moment to register the low England temperature.

"Same as you." Harry slips his black peacoat off his shoulders and swings the thick fabric around her small fame.

"You don't have to do that. I'm fine." She attempts to take it off, denying his kind gesture.

"Don't worry bout it. Was warm anyways," he lies, his warm breath creating barrels of fog in the frosty atmosphere. She takes in the scent of his coat. Citrus and vanilla. For a brief second she loses herself in the aroma. "Fancy meeting you here," he scoffs, adjusting the collar of his jacket on either side of her neck.

"Surprised you didn't push me over." Anna snuggles into the warmth embracing her tired arms. Harry's face turns solemn. She immediately regrets her joke. "I'm just kidding. You wouldn't do that. I mean, maybe you would. You wouldn't, though. Sorry. I'm rambling."

"That's okay. A decent rambling is good for the soul every now and again. If we're being honest, I'm really surprised you're up here."

"Why? Is there a V.I.P. list I'm unaware of?"

"It's not that," he notes with a giggle. "Based on what I've heard about you, you seem to have a lot going for you. Can't figure out why you're looking over the barrier like that."

"If we believed everything we heard, I wouldn't be surprised at all that you're out here."

"Ouch." Harry breathes hot air into his freezing interlocked hands, rubbing them together frantically in the hopes that the friction will warm his entire body.

"That came out wrong. I've heard this isn't your first time here, is all. God. Good job, Anna." She slams her palm against her forehead and clenches her fists, leaving crescent-moon marks from her fingernails in the soft skin. "I'm a wordsmith. Can't you tell?"

An adorable grin spreads across his handsome face. "Don't quit your day job."

"Ouch right back!" Her loud laugh booms through the open atmosphere. "Maybe I misjudged you."

"Everyone does. I don't think anything of it anymore. Especially considering, you know."

"Considering what?" She looks to him, brow stern with focus.

"I know girls like you." He sits down, the chilled concrete seeping through his sweatpants.

She sits down beside him, like two prepubescent teenagers away at camp, crowding around their only source of heat. Her shoulder knocks into his right, and both their backs rest against the uncomfortable cinderblock of the wall behind them. "Girls like me?" She instinctively wraps his coat around his shoulder. The two huddle together. Two misfits. Two drifters.

"I don't mean anything by that." Harry nuzzles into her, like a moth to a flame, as cliche as that may feel. They don't mean anything sexual by their mannerisms. The comfort of the other is exactly what they need. He's always wanted to be taken care of. She's always wanted to take care of somebody. And vice versa. "I don't mean any offense. But you're privileged, yeah? I know who your family is. Daughter of a wealthy politician. I'm still trying to figure out why you're here."

"Exactly that. You look at me and think 'daughter of a wealthy politician.' Do you know what kind of pressure that puts on me? The scrutiny I've been under since I've been in diapers? For God's sake, my dad gave me a framed picture of Queen Elizabeth when I turned 5. I asked for a guitar!" She brings her knees close to her chest and wraps her arms around her weak limbs. His heart aches at the sight of her. At the look on her face. "You wanna know something funny?" She interrupts his observation. "When I was 12, I wanted nothing more than to try out for the school play. It was 'Annie.' My dad looked at me, square in the face, and said I would be an embarrassment. I signed up for debate club the next morning."

"Sing it for me. Sing 'Tomorrow.'" Harry stands, dropping the jacket off his shoulders, a determined expression on his face.

"What?"

"You don't need to be embarrassed about that. Sing it for me." Harry pauses and helps her to her feet. "Sing it for yourself."

Anna stands and clicks the heels of her stark white slip-on Keds. She draws imaginary circles in the dust of the rooftop with the tip of her toe. "Are you serious?"

"Fuck yeah, I'm serious! Sing it!"

"The sun will come out... tomorrow..." Her timid voice squeaks through her teeth, quiet and self-conscious.

"You can do better than that now, love. Bet your bottom dollar that..." He sings the next line through his gritted jaw, egging her on to be more confident. "C'mon. There's no one around. Sing it to your fans." He stretches his arms to the space ahead of them. Honking horns and screeching tires below them cheer for her. "Sing it. MEAN IT!"

"...tomorrow, there'll be sun." Her voice is still barely audible. Harry wants nothing more than to break her out of her shell.

He stands behind her, grabbing both of shoulders, fixes her posture and faces her toward the starry night-like sky. "SCREAM IT!"

"TOMORROW! TOMORROW! I LOVE YA! TOMORROW! YOU'RE ALWAYS DAY AWAY!" She surprises herself with her intense vigor. The pitch is off. Her voice cracked in the middle. But it didn't matter. In this moment, she's never felt more free.

"There we go!" Harry gives an excited look. His cupped hands bang together in applause, the celebration echoing throughout the rooftop. "HOLY FUCK!"

"Thank you. Thank you. I'll be here all week." Anna curtsies and holds her hands in front of her face in embarrassment.

"Don't take it away." Harry moves her hands and places them by her sides. "Now answer me — why are you here?"

"That. That moment I just had singing? That's the only time in my entire life so far that I've felt like myself."

"That's a shame." Harry sits back down against the wall. He stretches the jacket to his side and motions for her to sit beside him. "I rather like you as yourself."

"Tell that to my dad." She promptly joins him in the coat. "Wonder how long it'll take for the media to pick that little moment up."

"Can I ask you a question?" Harry places his large hand on her shoulder and brings her in tightly against his body. Strictly for warmth and comfort.

"I have a feeling you're going to ask anyways."

"You're right." He laughs. A perfect white smile pops out from behind his blush lips. Little bunny teeth, front and center, showcase themselves in perfect imperfection. "I know what you were going to do tonight. Or, I guess, thinking about doing tonight. Is there anything you wanted to do before that moment though? Things you've always thought about?"

"Like what?" She meets his green eyes. Both hold despair and turmoil.

"Really think about it. Say a deity comes up to you tomorrow and asks you —" Harry takes on a goofy, over-sophisticated posture, and positions himself to face her more closely. He gives a Yoda-like accent. "'My darling Anna, you're going to die in one month. What do you want to do before then?'"

"What a question!" She laughs again. This is the first time in years she's smiled so much. A shiver overcomes her body and he takes his hands into hers. She's never had a boyfriend before. What does this mean to him? Why was he acting this way?

"C'mon. Just answer." He blows hot air into their clasped fingertips. His wrists shake involuntarily, reminding her of their conversation back at the phones.

"I want to live my life. Discover who I am. Meet John Lennon." She giggles at her ridiculous thoughts.

"Well, that settles that." He stands, bringing her to her feet. He wraps his jacket snuggly around her body, buttoning each large button, from the bottom to top. "Make a list of everything you've ever wanted to do and meet me in the recreation room tomorrow at lunch." Harry brings his hands around the fair skin of her neck. "We're going to make a pact."

Anna holds his wrists as he holds her face. "A pact?"

"Trust me, okay? I'll explain more tomorrow." Bringing her close, Harry hugs Anna. Each of them feel a strange responsibility for the other. His motives are unknown but she doesn't care. All she can think about is how she wishes this embrace came one week sooner. They've never felt more alive. More at peace with their destiny. "G'night, Anna."

"Goodnight, Harry."